Let Me Go
by mangobunnies
Summary: Clove Wensley and Cato Mason have been best friends since they were five. Eleven years later, they have no idea they are going to be picked to volunteer together for the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. And as their relationship develops, they slowly start to discover their true feelings towards each other- learning that it's never too late for a career to learn to feel something.


**I don't usually write Clato fanfics, but i just thought i'd give it a shot- hope you all like it! **

* * *

**Cato POV**

_Slash. Jab. Block. Lunge. Repeat._

I guide the sword gracefully through each manequinn, every move natural and familiar. My daily warmup routine never gets old.

It's exactly one month before the games- the day they will choose who will volunteer. I'm convinced that I'm the academy's number one pick, but just to be sure, I don't mind picking up bonus points by early-morning training. Self motivation apparently is one of the deciding factors.

I finally move on to the spears, breaking my temptation to keep working on my swordsplay- honestly, I could work on it for hours.

I skewer the hearts of many more manequinns without much effort, and then decide to move on to my weak spot- knife throwing. Well, it's not really my weak spot. I mean, I'm sure I'd do as well as my best friend Clove (who is absolutely phenomenal... but not that I should be outdone by her) in many occassions, but there are many flaws in the way I hit the bullseye.

I carelessly fire the knives into the centre of each target, and yawn. I move to my left hand and do the same. Nothing old, nothing new.

Just when I fire a knife that doesn't hit the bullseye for the first time, three knives hit the targets next to mine consecutively. None of them thrown by me, of course, but by none other than my best friend, Clove Wensley.

"Morning there, Slacker. I can see that you've now decided to take knife throwing quite seriously," she jokes.

"Psh. Obviously," I respond, motioning to the knife I had thrown that was off.

"Hm, is that so? Then I guess you wouldn't mind going head-to-head?"

This is Clove. The one out of the two of us who always enjoys the satisfaction of being better than me. No matter how many times she has done it, or how many times she will do it, she will always be better than me at throwing knives. It is the only thing that I am not ashamed to admit she is better than me in. Otherwise, I can do everything else she doesn't have the physical capacity for. And everyone knows that.

"Whatever floats your boat at five a.m.," I chuckle, and load myself with knives. We go for over two minutes without talking, just non-stop knife throwing, piercing almost every target in the gym. Clove always manages to throw four knives per nano second, while I still struggle at four per five seconds. Once we run out of our supplies of knives, we glance around at the artwork we have left on the plastic manequinns. At least ten knives stick out from each one where its heart would be. A few of mine are slightly off, but Clove has deadly accuracy, as usual.

"Not so serious about it now, are we?" she smirks.

"My turn- we're going swords training next," I grin goofily and drag her to the sword rack. I throw her what I know is the heaviest one, and she struggles just to get it into a fighting stance.

"Okay, ready, set, go!" I yell, and within seconds, I have her disarmed and sword tip pointed at her neck. I throw back my head and laugh as she wines,

"That's no fair! The sword was way too heavy for me!"

"Well that's just too bad, isn't it," I hiss, mimicking our head knife-throwing trainer, Enobaria. She used to say this to Clove a lot when we were younger when she would bitch and complain about being tired.

"Oh, shut up, Enobaria. I've had enough of your bullshit for a lifetime!" she spits playfully. I lower the tip of my sword to let her go, and we head to the hand-to-hand combat area. I train with her, as she practices how to flip someone over quickly.

"So, any thoughts on this year's games?" I ask her, and she tenses a little.

"Nope. I haven't really though about it much, honestly," she shrugs. "How 'bout you? It's almost your last year, I mean, what do you have to lose, volunteering a year early."

"What, so you think I'm ready?" I ask. Suddenly, she physically flips me over, knocking the air out of my lungs as I land on my back.

"I would hope that you are," she purrs slyly, but I only know she's joking. She walks towards the doors of the gym.

"Come on, you know I am," I say once I recover from the blow. I get up and follow her, but she just turns around and gives me a smirk, and continues walking out.

"What, what'd I do?" I call after her.

"Nothing," she says innocently.

"Oh really. Like I'm gonna believe that," I jog to catch up to her.

"Okay Clove, what's up?"

"I said, it's nothing," she mumbles, sounding a little more pissed.

"It can't be nothing, you know it's a lie."

"I'm hungry. There, are you happy?"

"May I join you then, Princess?"

"Hey, don't let me stop you."

We march out of the gym corridors and into the cafeteria made especially for academy students. There are a few other students there, along with a couple early working trainers. We take our usual breakfast of carbs, fibre, and lots of protein. When we sit down, Clove is quieter than she usually is.

"What's gotten into you, Clover?" I ask sincerely.

"What," she frowns.

"You're not... you. You know, knife-throwing, sarcastic, kick-ass bitch who happens to be my best friend? Yeah, where'd she go?" she gives me a punch in the arm, and I laugh.

"Watch your tongue, Iron Man," she jokes lightly.

"No, but seriously, you seem preoccupied with something. What is it?"

"I said it's nothing," she chuckles lightly, but I can see right through her.

"I know your lying, why can't you just tell me?"

"Shit Cato, can you give a girl some privacy once in a while? It's not my best day that I'm having, if you haven't figured it out already, which I'm guessing you probably haven't!" she suddenly bursts out. A few people have turned to look at us briefly, but then turned away once Clove glared daggers back at them.

I think back to the conversation we had back in the gym. She just greeted me, then we went to train with the swords... No, she wouldn't get upset at losing to me like that. With one too heavy, I wouldn't blame her. And then what did we talk about after... oh.

"It's about the games, isn't it," I mutter quietly to her in a low voice. She doesn't say or do anything but nibble away at her toast.

For the rest of the meal, we eat in silence, not one of us daring to start a conversation.

I see why she would be worried, but it's just not logical for someone like her. She's knows I'll be fine going into the games, even if it is a year early. But for Clove to be worried is something to be brought to attention. It's not logical for her to be at this point, anyways. She has more experience than most of the kids her age, but...

We finish our breakfast and dump the rest in the trash. Because today is Selection Day, we have an extra two hours before we have to report to the gym for assessment, so we exit the academy without a word to each other.

~;~

**Clove POV**

"Cato, will you just leave it alone already?" I lash out. "I don't need this shit now."

"I was just curious... you just didn't seem like... well, Clove," Cato awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and shrugs.

"Nothing's changed, I'm still Clove," I say with a small frown.

"Yeah, but you were preoccupied with-"

"I said just leave it!" I yell. He stares at me with awe, wonder, and disbelief. And a little hurt, which is making me feel guilty. I've never yelled at Cato. Ever. We vowed never to yell, get mad, or to keep secrets from each other a long time ago.

I sigh heavily and whisper his name.

"Cato... look, I didn't mean-"

"I guess I'll see you at ten, then," he doesn't look me in the eye when he says this, and I can tell me meant it to hurt.

"Cato!" I call after him, but it's too late. He's already walking away and chosen to ignore my pleads.

I sigh and walk home alone. The assessments are two hours away, and I can't just ignore them.

How the Selection assessments work is one by one, every student from the academy is put in a simulation that decides if they are fit for the games or not. It narrows down the pool to fifteen boys and fifteen girls, and from there, they assess each of us individually, just like they do in the games. It then is skimmed down to five boys and five girls, where they put them on the simulation again, where they will reenact the finaly of the games, and what they would do in each situation. Then they decide from there who is going to volunteer.

The girls aren't allowed to tell the boys anything about who's picked to volunteer, and likewise with the boys.

I've always been in the final five since I was thirteen, which is unusual for someone my size. But I know what goes on in those simulations, and it's exactly what all the kids at the academy crave.

But what I'm scared is going to happen is way worse than my fear of dying, if I have any. I have a really good chance of getting picked this year, even though I'm only sixteen. I know I'm going to win, no matter what anyone says-except for the Selections.

Because it's hard knowing which one's worse: going into the games with your best friend or knowing you'll come out without him.

* * *

**Hope you liked it! It's a little on the long side for a first chapter, but it's a start! What'd ya think of it? Reviews, favourites, and follows REALLY help for encouragement! Thanks for reading! xo**


End file.
